The Fires of Hell
by VampireGirl2148
Summary: AU of Season 4. Dean was never rescued from Hell. Instead he changed into the very thing he hated the most. A demon. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**** Fortunately for you, I don't own Supernatural.**

**Description- AU of Season 4. Dean was never rescued from Hell. He remained in the Pit until he became the thing that he hated the most.**

**I apologize for any of my grammar or spelling mistakes.**

**AN: I'm starting the story off with Dean in Hell. The action will come a little later. Right now I'm starting at the very beginning, so hang in there! It'll get interesting. I promise!**

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><p>Hell.<p>

Just a word, a short four letter word. One used fairly often in many different contexts by countless people as they go through their everyday lives. None of them realizing what the word actually means. Because those four simple little letters don't do the place justice. Not even in the slightest.

Dean screamed, but the leather strap covering his mouth, which filled the dual purpose of gagging him and immobilizing his head, was unforgiving. Desperately trying to control the involuntary screeching sounds that were emanating from his throat, his body began to convulse, his movements hindered by the bindings.

Hell was continuously altering. A fresh batch of souls arrived everyday while others escaped the Pit to possess human bodies and manifest as demons on Earth. Hell was a place of chaos, unpredictable and volatile. It seemed to quiver with electricity, as if one spark could detonate the entire place. There were, however, a few constants.

The blood. He could almost taste it in the air. It was everywhere. Staining every visible surface, pouring out of the bodies of the tortured, dripping off the knives, daggers, scalpels, blades, and other instruments of pain, and pooling around the torturers' feet. The blistering air stank of its heavy metallic scent, almost masking the ever present stench of sulfur that permeated the entire place.

The oppressive heat. Ruby hadn't been lying about the fire. While it certainly seemed to be one of the more popular forms of torture in the Pit, the real fire was not as tangible. Hell itself was a blazing inferno, the flames existing inside the souls of the damned. The unseen fire consumed all in its path, the remnants of the flames unrecognizable. For the tortured, the fire only intensified the excruciating pain. For the torturers, the flames empowered and strengthened them before proceeding to carve yet another soul.

And last of all was the noise. There was the screaming, the sobbing and the pleading of the tortured as their bodies were ripped apart and their intestines were either spilled on the floor or impaled on a large rusty spike. There were the gleeful cackles of the torturers as they found new ways to inflict agony. Lastly there was the ever present rumbling noise which always reminded Dean of a volcano. Like the ground was threatening to give way, all the inhabitants plunging to another even fierier death.

No day in Hell was quite the same, but Dean knew schedule of events that would usually follow.

The day would begin with his body miraculously repairing from the previous damage. Then Alastair would start the ball rolling with a different form of torture each day. So far he had flayed Dean's skin off inch by inch, turned him into a human pincushion using red hot pokers, removed all his internal organs and sewed them back in, extracted his eyes with a pair of tweezers, ripped him into pieces until he resembled nothing more than chunks of bloody flesh. And the list went on and on and on.

Though Dean had lost track of time in the Pit, Alastair never ceased to come up with creative new way to inflict pain. Then the demon would move on to a more familiar form of torture. Dean would lie there immobilized by chains, all the while screaming in agony as Alastair began his daily monologue in a good natured tone.

"You know, Dean," Alastair drawled carelessly, "You could easily end all your suffering. Why make things harder for yourself?" "Really now. What more do you have to lose?" "Your humanity?" he scoffed, simultaneously cutting open Dean's chest, ripping off strips of bloody skin.

"Screw you," Dean gasped, pausing from his fruitless attempt to clear the blood clogging up his lungs. To his irritation, his intention of adding a few of his choice curse words was ruined as the white eyed demon chose that precise moment to rip Dean's tongue out.

At the end of every single day, Alastair would ask the same question. Dean could get off the rack. All he had to do was put more souls on and torture them. Dean violently turned the offer at first, refusing to give in, clinging desperately to his last shred of humanity. But his resolve was weakening day by day.

It was just another ordinary day in Hell when it finally happened. While Alastair embedded the razor into his flesh again and again, something inside of Dean broke. A switch seemed to have flipped in his head, and the agony, if possible, had increased tenfold. Everything, the pain, the noise, the smell, the sheer hopelessness of the place was crashing down on him. Threatening to bury and crush him into nothingness. It was all too much.

"Yes," he whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming. A tear trickled down his cheek at the thought of what he was about to do.

Alastair looked up from his work slowly. His lips curled into a knowing smile as he said, "What was that Dean? I didn't quite hear you there."

"You heard me. I said yes," Dean choked out, louder than before. "I'll do it. I'll put souls on. I'll torture them."

"Are you sure, Dean?" Alastair said grinning. "Won't want you to back out at the last second. You positive? Well, if you insist."

Suddenly Dean found himself standing next to Alastair, his body already healed of the day's torture sessions. Alastair stared at him, his close scrutiny unnerving Dean. It was like the demon was sizing him up. "Follow me." was all he said though, his expression now cryptic.

Elated, the demon led Dean to a woman strapped to a table who watched them fearfully as they approached. Alastair slipped a knife into Dean's hand while hissing, "You know what to do," before backing away, chortling. A detached part of his mind realized numbly that this was the happiest Alastair had ever been during his stay in the Pit while the more human part of his mind was recoiling at what he was about to do. He grasped the blade in both hands.

Dean's hands began to shake as the blade neared her skin. He paused when the point of the knife was almost touching her. She had started to whimper, pleading with him and begging him not to do this. But he had to. It was either her or him and he couldn't allow himself to be thrown back on the rack. He just couldn't. The blade was now brushing her skin.

He steeled himself and plunged the blade as hard as he could into her flesh. Crimson blood spilled from the wound and dripped onto the floor as he made another cut to join the first. Ignoring her agonized shrieks, he stabbed again and again and to his utmost horror realized he couldn't stop.

Blood spattered his face as an unfamiliar and alien feeling washed over him.

**Please, please, please review. Just press the little button right there. You know you want to...**

**Again I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it.**

**Again please excuse my grammar and spelling mistakes. I never know what to do with all the commas.**

**AN: I like to thank you guys for the reviews and the story alerts. It really made my day. This story is still in what I call the "backstory" part. So please bear with me for now. Well, here's Chapter 2. Enjoy!**

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><p><em>Thirteen months later<em>...

Dean trudged down the sidewalk slowly, doing his best to remain nondescript as the Queen Bitch did not tolerate sloppy work. Keeping a low profile, especially now, was crucial as there was a new enemy for the demons to be worried about. Lilith's plan was to remain inconspicuous and Dean had no intention of getting on her bad side. Though he had grown to enjoy Hell in his time down under, too many trips back into the Pit did nothing for a demon's overall mental well-being. No wonder some of them were beginning to crack under all the pressure.

A few demons had even made desperate bids for freedom. Alastair was highly concerned with rounding up all the escapees and "teaching the youngsters a thing or two about loyalty." Dean certainly didn't envy the deserters, knowing that the white eyed demon undoubtedly had something nasty planned for the lot of them. Those cowards wouldn't get far. Dean would make sure of that. And that was the reason why he was even in this old rundown dingy wreck of a town in the first place. Dean's current job was to confirm or refute the existence of a fugitive demon nest in town.

Four broken windows, one collapsed building, and three dead bodies later, Dean discovered, to his extreme annoyance, that town _did_ have demons at one point but since all of them had moved on a while ago his little field trip to Nowhereville, USA was rendered useless. The traces of sulfur he found were old and aside from himself, there was not a single demon within a 10 mile radius of the town. "Fucking cowards," he muttered under his breath, irritated.

Though he knew that his next course of action should've been to immediately check any neighboring cities or the outskirts of town, he found himself sinking down on a park bench suddenly wanting some time to himself. Dean could have punched himself for sounding so sappy, but what he wanted the most was some time to think.

Time flowed differently in Pit. Dean had spent over a century in Hell but found to his surprise that barely a year had passed since he died. He had, with extreme difficulty, managed to get his old body back. It had been a fairly long process which involved buying up a few souls as a favor to Crowley aka "Lucky the Leprechaun", persuading Alastair to pull a few strings, and a several more things that he was not so keen on discussing at all.

Dean was pleasantly surprised upon realizing his body had been buried, not salted and burned in a traditional hunter's pyre. He would probably have to thank Sam for that as he wasn't sure if a meatsuit could be regenerated after cremation; most demons didn't go to the trouble of getting their old bodies back, though a few of the more sentimental ones had.

Nostalgia wasn't Dean's reason for wanting his body back though. He couldn't care less about that. It just happened to be the one most convenient to his needs. His old body was the one he could fight the best in as it was the one that Dean felt the most comfortable in. It was the best possible option, being the body he was already used to, as he didn't have the time to break in a brand new meatsuit. Time was a luxury the demons didn't have.

Meatsuits were sort of like shoes. Some fit well, others were too tight, some didn't fit at all, some needed breaking in, some just looked ridiculous, and some wore out easily. Dean remembered idly of the time Rick, a fellow demon, had managed to burn through 18 of them in just one month.

Often a demon would abandon a host body if there was severe damage, such as a loss of a limb, or several limbs, or even a head. Some demons would get bored with their meatsuits and switch to another, usually after making sure the body had sustained fatal injuries. It was much easier to leave a dead body behind rather than a panicking screaming human.

Dean thought back to the first time he'd been topside after going to Hell. Only one year had passed then; though everything was exactly the same, it seemed like a foreign world. Being incorporeal was odd, existing only as a cloud of pitch black smoke, sensing everything around him but not being able to see or feel anything at all simply because he had no body to see or feel with. The sensation was odd, not uncomfortable, just odd because it was so different from anything thing else he ever had experienced. Apparently it was something you got used to.

Eager to get away from the foreign sensation, he chose the first human he could find for a meatsuit. He saw the fear and confusion in the man's eyes as he saw the thick black smoke coiling angrily around him, getting closer and closer until Dean was looking through his eyes.

Dean was abruptly blasted with a surge of information. The man's name was Eric Brenden, his wife's name was Michelle, his kids' names were Kayla and Peter, he was a teacher at the local university, he was supposed to be picking the kids up from school today, he had over thirty student papers to grade, and he had no idea what the hell was going on. All the while he was screaming "_Get out! Get out! Get_ _out!" _silently as the unseen force took over his body.

Dean fought briefly with the human for a millisecond, easily subduing him as he gained the upper hand in their struggle for control. He paused, trying to get the "feel" of the body as the man's eyes turned pitch black. Completely in control now, Dean looked around while simultaneously trying to adjust to yet another unfamiliar feeling.

Dean broke suddenly from his reverie. Checking his watch, he realized, to his relief that only eight minutes had passed since he first sat down. He still had a job to finish, with the group of fugitive demons still at large. Time was quite literally of the essence.

Though this particular job was dull, practically a milk run, it was a hell of a lot better than helping Lilith break the 66 seals to pop Lucifer from the box. Last time, he got roped into helping Drew, another fairly dim demon, organize a mass sacrifice to break a seal and Dean very narrowly avoided getting fried by an angel.

"Dicks," he snorted to no one in particular. "Just dicks with wings. That's all they are." Dean learned fairly quickly that the angels were just as bad as demons, some of them even worse. That didn't mean they weren't dangerous though. Most of the other demons organizing the sacrifice didn't walk away, and Dean had no desire to tangle with the angels so soon after that. He was content to let the higher level demons handle the breaking of the seals.

Randomly, he wondered how Sam was doing. He knew Sam was still alive due to the demons' gossip. Dean also knew that Ruby was with him as almost all the demons in Hell were looking for the bitch so they could turn her in. Dean included. Though Ruby had helped them at one point, he had no love for the black eyed bitch. Apparently, the little slut was also helping Sam hone his freaky psychic powers. Word got around fast in Hell as some of the demons gossip like old women. Though he still had a job to finish, he was suddenly torn between wanting to see Sam and making sure that whore got what she deserved.

Emotions were hard to map out as a demon. Hell changed a person, twisted them into something unrecognizable. Any feelings a person had when they were alive would be inevitably distorted in Hell, which accounted for some demons' bipolar behavior. Dean was surprised to find that he hadn't changed very much at all. He was almost exactly the same person as before. Except for one thing. He didn't care about anything. Not anymore. Before, he practically cared too much. Now, he couldn't care less.

Dean pushed the thought aside, remembering that he still had a job to finish. He ceased his musings while pulling out a map of the town from his back pocket, wanting to finish the odious job as soon as possible. Five minutes later, along with some very quick research, he narrowed the list of possible hiding places to an old abandoned warehouse 25 miles west of here. Back on track with the task at hand, Dean readied himself for what he was about to do as he walked back down the street.

First he was going to annihilate the nest of runaway demons and send their pathetic sorry asses back to Hell where Alastair would make them pay. And then he was going to pay a visit to his little brother.

Smirking, Dean rounded the corner of the block and promptly vanished into thin air.

**Well, we're almost at the interesting part now. Hang in there! Please, please, please review. They really make my day.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:**** Same as always. Anything you recognize, I don't own.**

**Yeah, I probably should've paid a little more attention in English class.**

**AN: Wow. Thank you so much for your support along with the story alerts. I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed my story: Whateva876, KAISRE, T.L. Arens, cold kagome, XxExX, Mixed Reality, RoGueSurfer, soccergirly37, and sarah. Thanks guys, I really appreciate it.**

**Now that I'm done rambling, here's Chapter 3.**

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><p>Sam squinted through the Impala's windshield, wiping away the large patch of condensation that kept forming inconveniently in front of his face. Torrents of rain pounded down on the sleek black car; the water encased the entire vehicle in a thin translucent film, lowering any visibility he might have had beforehand. For all Sam could see, he might as well be driving around with his eyes closed.<p>

Though he knew it was downright insane to keep driving around in this kind of weather, Sam was reluctant to return to the motel. He couldn't seem to shake the nagging suspicion that someone or something was watching him. At first he ignored his qualms, assuming it was only Ruby. But she only waited a few hours, at the most, before contacting him. Whatever the thing was, it had been there watching him the entire day, maybe longer.

Sam drove back to the motel, deciding that the best option was to wait and see if the thing would come to him. In this weather, he'd probably end up accidentally driving the car off a bridge trying to shake the thing off his tail. Back in the motel room, he compensated by pulling out what seemed to be every single weapon he owned as he sat there waiting, wishing that the damn thing would come already.

Outside, the rain had finally stopped, though stray droplets still fell from the sky, a few landing on the man standing motionless in the middle of the motel parking lot. Dean stood next to the Impala, gazing impassively through the window. While he couldn't deny that the car was still and would always be a thing of beauty, he no longer felt the attachment he once had to his former home and sanctuary. None of his old love and reverence for the vehicle remained. Now, the Impala was just a car to him. A piece of metal that got you from Point A to Point B.

Turning around, Dean was about to leave as something caught his eye. There, fixed to the dashboard of the Impala, was an iPod jack. _"What the hell?" _was the very first thought that popped into Dean's head before he caught himself and muttered under his breath, "Just a car, just a car," before walking off.

Taking care of the fugitive demon nest went quicker than Dean had imagined. Well, there wasn't much to be expected from a bunch of demons who couldn't even follow Hell's one and only rule: Do what you're told and you'll live. All Dean really had to do was seal the exits and toss in a couple of explosives and the entire warehouse went up in flames. Alastair was supposed to be the one in charge of their punishments but Dean couldn't help but give them a little taste of what to expect. After that, there wasn't much else to do besides drag their sorry asses back downstairs.

In fact, the task was so short that he had plenty of extra time to go and find Sammy. Good thing too since the kid hid himself pretty damn well. He found Sam in this town, where he was finishing up a salt and burn. Dean noticed he kept looking over his shoulder as if he knew someone was following him. It wouldn't have surprised him if he already knew Dean was there, even if it was a long shot.

In the motel room, Sam was crouched next to the bed, which was lined with an impressive array of weapons. He stiffened as he heard footsteps, which were steadily drawing nearer and nearer. He braced himself as the doorknob twisted and the door slowly opened, the locks grinding as they broke while the door chain was dislodged from the wall. And in the doorway stood someone Sam thought he would never see again. It was Dean.

Sam acted involuntarily, grabbing the gun loaded with the silver bullets and then firing three shots at the thing standing in the doorway. The bullets hit their mark, the tiny projectiles puncturing the clothes and slicing through the skin and flesh of the thing, as blood began to drip from the wounds. Nothing happened.

Dean could've easily dodged those bullets, but he decided against it as Sam was going to need visible proof that he wasn't a shapeshifter or revenant before agreeing to talk to him. Anyway, when the gunshot wounds started to heal, they would automatically dislodge the bullets from his body, saving him most of the trouble. He stepped in to the room, noting with relief that there was no salt line, and said, "Hiya Sammy. Long time no see."

Sam stepped backwards, stunned, almost tripping over his own feet while shouting, "What are you?" Because that thing wasn't Dean. Dean died over a year ago when his deal was due. But the silver had no effect. Abandoning that worrying thought, Sam reminded himself that there were other creatures that could take a human form. This was obviously some imposter, using his brother's form to try and get to him. Well it wasn't going to work on him. Not this time. "What are you?" Sam repeated, discreetly picking up a dagger, holding it at his side, hoping that the edge of the bed would conceal the weapon.

The thing stepped a little closer at that, grinning as it said, "I think you know the answer to that, Sammy." And then its eyes turned black, the darkness engulfing the whites and pupils of the thing's eyes, like a lens rotating.

Sam stood there horrorstruck, as he realized the enormity of the whole situation. For hunters, this was one of the worst things that could ever happen on the job. Having someone close to you turned into the very thing you hunt. Common instinct told you to kill them like any other monster, but your love and care for the person stopped you from doing so. Situations like those always ended up bloody. Usually the newly turned monster and the hunter, along with numerous innocents, ended up dead. It was a hunter's worst fear.

Smirking, Dean walked forward, as if he exactly what was going on in his little brother's head. "You know," Dean said, "I thought you'd have been a little happier to see me. Kinda expected a warmer welcome. Do you shoot Ruby every single time she drops in? If you don't, then that's a shame, since the bitch deserves all she can get." As an afterthought Dean added, "Put down the knife, Sammy. You're only going to hurt yourself," remembering the dagger Sam had picked up when he walked in.

Noting the shocked expression on Sam's face, he continued, "Word travels fast in Hell. We gotta have something to do with our free time. I happen to know that you seem to enjoy fucking a demon in yours. You know, when you're not practicing your freaky Jedi mind tricks. I hear you can do exorcisms now. Nice. Real classy, Sam. On the other hand, I happen to know that your Wonder Girl powers aren't working at the moment. But let's face it Sam, you wouldn't send me back even if you could."

"What's wrong, Sammy?" Dean said mockingly, "Cat got your tongue?" noting Sam's temporary inability to speak. Those words seemed to do the trick though, jerking Sam from his stupor.

"What are you even doing here? What do you want?" were the first words Sam could choke out. Another thought hit him as he suddenly asked, "How come you still look like yourself?"

"C'mon Sammy, I'm insulted. I can't even pop in to visit my favorite brother anymore? And as for your other question, you'd be surprised at what a few favors in Hell can get you. By the way, I've been meaning to thank you for not having me cremated. That might have complicated things." As Dean said this, he felt a rush of amusement at the growing expression of horror on Sam's face.

Sam managed to find his voice again. "Dean, I'm sorry," he began, but Dean abruptly cut him off, an unfathomable look on his face.

"Save your little heartfelt speech for someone else," Dean said harshly, his green eyes suddenly cold. "It's too late for that. You should know that. What's done is done."

Dean straightened and smirked, his eyes still hard as he casually said, "While you don't have anything planned, I actually happen to extremely busy. You know with Lilith and all of the Seals." He stood there motionless, eyes flickering with amusement, as he waited for Sam's reaction.

Sam didn't disappoint him. He gaped at Dean as he said, "What are you talking about? Lilith? What Seals? What is she up to?"

Dean laughed in response and shook his head. Chortling, he said, "Does Ruby not tell you anything? Cause there seems to be a lot that you don't know about, little brother." Grinning he said, "You should ask her. Find out what else she's been hiding from you and lying to you about. Should be enough to fill a book. Probably several books."

Dean's phone vibrated in his shirt pocket. He looked down at it absentmindedly, remembering that he was still on call for anything else that might pop up. "Well, the boss man is calling. I've got some more work to do." Dean said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Remember, this ain't over; I'll be back," he assured Sam, while grinning evilly at him. "Gotta go. I'll see you around Sammy." With one last smirk he turned and walked through the doorway, disappearing.

"Wait!" Sam called out, but Dean was already gone. Sam felt himself sinking down on the bed, too stunned to do anything else for the time being as he thought, _"What the hell am I going to do now?"_

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	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** **Don't own it. Never did. But I can dream, right?**

**Grammar was never really my strong suit.**

**AN: Unfortunately I won't be able to update for about a week. I have a family vacation thing to go to and there's no internet access. I apologize to all of my wonderful readers and I will try to write as many chapters as I can while I'm away so I can upload them when I get back. Well, enjoy the chapter!**

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><p>Strolling down the sidewalk of some town in northern Michigan, Dean pulled out his cell phone, which had started to vibrate again and answered, "Yeah?"<p>

A tinny but familiar voiced replied, "_Where the hell are you! You'd better get your ass over here pronto!_"

Dean grinned as he said, "Well its good to hear from you too, Marlin. You know if you wedge that stick any further up your ass it'll be scraping the roof of your mouth. And exactly where is 'here' and why the hell should I even care?"

Marlin was always fun to irritate as he was extremely short tempered but he always got over his anger fairly quickly. While he still made plenty of threats, Marlin never seemed to be able to follow through on them. All in all, he was a pretty decent guy for a demon.

Marlin, however, was not pleased with Dean's antics. _"You know exactly what I'm talking about. It's the factory that we've spent a week working on for the ritual! Remember now?"_

"Sure, sure," Dean responded dismissively. "Sheesh, cool it Grandma. Don't get yourself too worked up now." Hearing the incomprehensible snarl that was Marlin's reply, he added, "Relax, I'll be there in two shakes."

"_You'd better,"_ was all Dean managed to make out of Marlin's next words before the static drowned out his voice. Turning, he walked down the street and vanished as he promptly appeared approximately six hundred miles away in an old abandoned factory.

Scanning the interior, he spotted the group of people gathered around an area near the rusted machinery, surrounded by the ingredients for a heavyweight summoning ritual. Dean recognized all of the demons present. Most of the other demons were older than him, but as Dean had personally tortured all of them in Hell, it was more than enough to instill a healthy sense of fear in them. Combined with Alastair's influence, those demons had an adequate amount of respect toward Dean.

"So," he said breaking the silence, Fill me in. What exactly do we need for this ritual?"

Marlin, who seemed to have already gotten over his fit of anger, replied, "Human blood, which we got," gesturing toward the pile of exsanguinated corpses thrown carelessly in the corner, "um, some herbs, which were a milk run, other odds and ends, and the bones of a murdered king, which by the way were a real bitch to find."

"How does the ritual go down? Are there any specific requirements we need to follow?" Dean asked.

"The ritual needs to be performed at midnight, tonight, but aside from that, no." Marlin answered. "Which means we got a few hours to kill. Anything else?"

"Actually yeah," Dean responded, "What's so special about the thing we're summoning, anyway?"

His question had been directed to Marlin, but to Dean's surprise it was Grant who answered. "Honestly, not much. Just a demon that's been locked in Hell for a few millennia. But it's also a Seal and an easy one at that."

"Great" Dean groaned, "Another Seal. I'm not scraping anybody off the wall this time though."

"Apparently, they ran out of higher level demons for the job," Alina chipped in, "so they sent a bunch of us here instead. But it's unlikely that the ritual will go wrong. We've covered the outside off the factory in Enochian warding sigils; the angels won't be able to even touch the place."

"I pray to God that what you're saying is true", Dean said, realizing how strange that sentence must have sounded coming from a demon, "Cause this is going to be one long night."

"What the hell, Ruby!" were the very first words out of Sam's mouth when the said demon appeared in his motel room. She had arrived about forty five minutes after Dean had left. Sam almost salted the room but remembered that the salt lines would keep Ruby out too.

"Chill, Sam," Ruby said shaking her head dismissively. "I know I've been gone for awhile but-"

"That's not what I mean Ruby!" Sam said, a little louder than he meant to. "I'm not talking about the fact that you've practically dropped off the face of the Earth for a month."

Ruby looked up, surprised. "So this isn't about your withdrawal symptoms from the blood."

"No," Sam said, slightly frustrated now, "But I do need some more; I ran out weeks ago. That's not the point though. Dean's back. "

"What do you mean Dean's back?", Ruby asked, puzzled.

"Dean's a demon," Sam responded flatly, waiting for her reaction. "Did you know you know?"

Ruby turned around, trying to find the best way to phrase her next words so it didn't come out as a big fat lie.

"Sam, I'm a wanted demon. Socializing with other demons is pretty much out of the question for me. Also, it takes decades or even centuries to become a demon. Dean only died a little over a year ago. Who could of guessed that it would happen so soon?," Ruby explained, hoping Sam would buy it.

To her relief he did, but then he asked the million dollar question, "Where have you been the past month then?"

The truth was that she was scared of running into Dean. Before Hell, he was a hunter, one who had no qualms about sending her back to the Pit or even killing her. Now, as a demon, along with Alastair's teachings, she didn't even want to imagine what Dean might do to her. As soon as she heard the news that Dean Winchester was topside, she hid. But it wasn't like she could tell Sam that.

"Well," she replied, I've been finding out more about Lilith nowadays. I know what her game plan is. There are these things called the 66 Seals, they're like locks on a cage. Lilith is trying to break open the cage."

"What's inside the cage?" Sam asked, frowning though he realized now that this must have been what Dean was referring to earlier.

"Lucifer. I know it sounds crazy but the devil is real and so are angels. I don't know how else to break this to you but you're just going to have to accept it," Ruby said wearily.

"Angels are real?" was Sam's only response.

Ruby sighed before saying, "Unfortunately, angels are very much real. But don't get your hopes up. Some of them are even bigger dicks than the demons and they're deadly too. They smite first and ask questions later. If you don't believe me you should ask a few of the demons they've disintegrated."

"And now," Ruby continued, "we need to get the hell out of here. Start packing."

"Why," Sam asked, confused.

"Because if Dean was able to find you it means other demons can too. Hurry!"

Back in the old factory, everything was set for the summoning ritual. The sigil was drawn in blood on the floor, the bones were placed at certain points outside the symbol, and the herbs were stacked carefully in the middle with a circle of blood surrounding the entire area. One of the dead bodies was lying off to the side of the summoning site as the demon would probably want an instant meatsuit after being in Hell for so long.

It was only 11:58 though, and the ritual had to be performed on the stroke of midnight. Marlin pulled out a sheet of crumpled paper from his back pocket, smoothing it so he could read the incantation. Everybody else got into position, waiting as Rick counted down the seconds on his watch to midnight,"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Now."

Marlin began to slowly recite the Latin incantation, as Grant poured the remaining blood over the pile of herbs. Dean placed a smoldering match on top of the bloody mound; the blood began to burn as if it were oil, spreading from the pile and igniting the other lines of blood drawn into the ground.

Dorian placed the bones in the flame's path which turned to dust as soon as the fire touched them. Alina scattered the ash from the burnt herbs and blood over the sigil; the blood began to boil and sizzle as the tiny grains of ash coated the bloody symbol. Marlin read louder as the entire building shook; the symbol on the floor changing, curling, twisting, tendrils of blood snaking from the center as if it were trying to latch on to something.

A vortex opened in the center, growing larger and larger as something started to emerge from its depths. Then all the windows in the building exploded, raining shards of broken glass over everyone. A blindingly bright white started to glow as a piercing ringing sound began. It was the angels.

"What the hell!" Dean yelled over the din, "I thought you put warding symbols on the outside!"

"Apparently, they only work when the building in question is still standing!" Marlin shouted back, "We all need to get the hell out of here!"

But it was too late. The building exploded in a flash of pure white light as the ringing grew even louder. All the demons inside fell to the floor writhing, doing their best to shield their eyes and ears from the incessant light and ringing. Then it was all over.

Dean opened his eyes cautiously and looked around. The place was a mess. The factory was unrecognizable; it looked like a bomb had been set off. Chunks of plaster, concrete, and mangled metal littered the entire area. He stood up slowly, noticing that everybody else was still on the ground. Dean automatically knew that they were all dead.

"Hello Dean," a voice behind him said.

Dean spun around looking for the perpetrator. The voice's owner was a dark haired man wearing a suit and tie underneath a trench coat. He was also undoubtedly an angel.

"What the hell do you want?" Dean said, knowing that the angel could kill him in mere seconds. As for why he had not already done so; he wasn't sure.

The angel frowned at him, narrowing bright blue eyes and said in a gruff voice, "We need to talk."

**Remember, reviews make me very very very happy. I'm really sorry about the one week break.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:**** No matter how hard I wish, they will never be mine.**

**Yeah, I have a bad habit of misusing punctuation.**

**AN: Again, I'm really sorry for the delay. This chapter was written on a boat by someone who gets lightheaded extremely easily, so some parts may not make sense even after I edit this.**

Dean stared blankly at the angel. "Exactly what do you mean by talk? Talk like sit down and have a serious conversation talk or talk like you give me a lecture before you explode me talk." The angel didn't respond. All the staring was really starting to seriously creep Dean out. "What the hell do you even want?"

The angel frowned at him and said, "I told you Dean, we need to talk. There are a few things you should know before you continue down the path you are set on."

"Yeah, like what?" Dean snorted derisively. "So an angel is going to give me a career talk. Nice. Well that's screwed up."

"My name is Castiel," the angel said, "I believe you have already encountered one of my brothers before."

"You mean the ass clown who tried to disintegrate me?" Dean interrupted. The absurdity of the entire situation was almost humorous. It was only the looming prospect of incineration that kept him grim.

"Which means," Castiel continued as though Dean hadn't said anything, "you know what we are and what we will do. Angels are warriors of God and we will do whatever it takes to prevent the breaking of the 66 Seals. Lucifer cannot be allowed to rise."

Dean scowled at the angel and said, "I don't think you're doing a great job with that. Forty three of the Seals have already been broken. Hell's winning this battle."

"We are at a disadvantage," Castiel replied, looking somber. "Lilith can choose any of the existing six hundred Seals to break. And out of those six hundred, only two are required. The first one and the last one."

"What are those Seals then?" Dean asked, curiosity suddenly getting the better of him. The demons of Hell operated mostly on a need to know basis. The leaders were often stingy with information. When Dean had turned he, like every other new demon, was given a brief rundown of the 66 Seals and why it was crucial for them to be broken so Lucifer could rise and bring Hell on Earth.

Dean wasn't expecting an answer so he was mildly surprised when the angel responded. "You," was all Castiel said. "You broke the very first Seal. You set everything in motion."

Well that wasn't something you heard every day. "Wait, so I broke the very first Seal. How?" Dean asked, wondering vaguely why no one had ever decided to share this piece of information before.

"And it is written, that the First Seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell. As he breaks so shall it break." Castiel said, his expression grave. "Lilith needed that Seal broken before she could do anything else.

"This doesn't change anything," Dean spat out. "So I lit the match, I started the spark, but now I'm fanning the flames. What difference does it make?"

"We tried to stop it Dean. The angels laid siege to Hell, but it was too late. As soon as you broke the Seal, we abandoned our efforts." the angel said almost sadly.

The wind whistled around the pair as silence fell between them. Dean looked around, noting the remains of the old factory as he said, "I still don't get why the hell you're even telling me this in the first place. What's done is done. It's not like I can go back and change it. And if I could, I wouldn't. It's so much simpler now. No gray areas. No indecision. Just follow orders and you live."

Castiel started to say that there was a way Dean_ could_ go back in time and possibly stop the breaking of the Seals but stopped himself, remembering that the orders had changed. After Dean's death, legions of angels had stormed the Pit, desperately trying to rescue him before he could break the first Seal. The Apocalypse had to be prevented at all costs. But the Seal broke anyway. And then the plans changed.

Now Heaven wanted Armageddon. After the original plans went awry, Michael saw the Apocalypse as a new opportunity. Lucifer would rise and Michael would then destroy Satan and bring Paradise to Earth. As God had been absent from Heaven for a good while by now, the upper class angels felt comfortable with making the decisions on how to run Heaven. In this case, it also included starting the end of the world.

The very idea of letting Lucifer rise could have possibly started an open rebellion among the lower level angels though. Such orders would have caused dissention in the ranks. Therefore, the lower class angels were not aware of Heaven's true plans. The demons couldn't know that the angels wanted Lucifer to rise either. They would be suspicious if the angels suddenly turned a blind eye to the turmoil on Earth.

And now angels were walking the Earth for the first time in over two thousand years. They would every now and then send a few lower level angels to prevent the breaking of a Seal to give the impression that the angels were fighting a losing battle.

Once the Apocalypse started, Michael and Lucifer would need their vessels which happened to be Dean and Sam Winchester, respectively. Sam could be swayed into saying yes and the angels planned to resurrect Dean when he was needed.

That was when the plans went wrong again. Dean rose from Hell as a demon. This was unprecedented as the damned souls in Hell took centuries to turn into demons. Dean had only been in Hell for a year. To make matters worse, he was possessing his human body. As an angel required consent in order to take a vessel, it certainly complicated things.

So Heaven could not let Dean Winchester be killed again. For the time being.

Dean eyed the angel with apprehension. Firstly, because he was an angel who could kill him in less than a second, and also because the guy was really starting to unnerve him. Castiel had started to say something but suddenly lapsed into thought, a pensive look on his face as if the as if the angel had forgotten Dean was even there in the first place.

"_Are all angels like this?"_ Dean thought confusedly. The last angel he met seemed a little trigger happy and was fully intent on reducing Dean into a pile of ash. This one, Castiel, seemed almost friendly compared to the last one, speaking to him as though he were an equal.

"Well," Dean said almost impatiently, "You said we needed to talk so spit it out already and kill me. You know, just to speed things up a bit since this is really starting to drag along."

Castiel snapped out of his reverie and said to Dean, "I will assume that you are aware of your brother's powers and how he acquires them. He needs to be stopped. He cannot be allowed to use Azazel's so called gifts."

The angel knew that his words would have the contrary effect. He planned on it. If Dean relayed the message, Sam would do the opposite. If Dean didn't, Ruby would ensure the outcome. Either way, Sam would continue to develop his powers until he would be strong enough to kill Lilith. Then the End would begin.

"Sure," Dean scoffed, "An angel came all the way down here, went to all this trouble so I could play messenger. You want something else. Otherwise you would have told Sam yourself."

Castiel ignored his accusations and said, "I'm not going to kill you either."

Dean blinked in surprise, "You're not?"

"We have orders to keep you alive," the angel replied, ignoring the bemused expression on Dean's face.

Dean's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "I don't know what game you're playing here but your side isn't going to win," he said angrily. "From what you're saying it sounds like you're trying to convert me or something. You have something else planned though."

"All that I am saying is that you should think about what I've told you," Castiel said. "All of it," he added as an afterthought. Then he vanished, leaving the demon standing in the wreckage of the factory.

The entire purpose of the meeting was to twist Dean to Heaven's will. All they needed was one little push and everything would play out the way it was supposed to. Very little effort was required; all they needed was a word here, or a threat there. Everybody had a part to play. And now everything was now going as planned.

Castiel couldn't help think that maybe, just maybe, what they were doing was wrong. That it definitely wasn't what God would have wanted from his children. But the angel quickly shook those thoughts away. He couldn't think like that or let anyone sense his doubts. He had to keep those qualms hidden. His life could very well depend on it.

Back in the factory, Dean cussed loudly. This sucked ass.

They failed at breaking the Seal because an angel decided to join the party and smote the entire place. Then the creepy ass angel dropped a bombshell of information on him and gave him a message for Sam. Also, because all of the other demons who were assigned to this particular Seal happened to be dead, Dean going to be the one who had to report this.

No one wanted to be the bearer of bad news. And Hell was very big on the whole 'kill the messenger' thing. Dean mentally braced himself for what he was about to do and vanished, leaving behind plenty of shrapnel and quite a few dead bodies. This was not going to be fun.

**Remember, I really enjoy those reviews. And again, this chapter was written entirely on a boat, so some parts may confuse you. I'm really not sure since I can't seem to stop my head from spinning.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:**** Nope, still don't own them.**

**All grammatical and spelling errors are mine though.**

**AN: I probably should have at the very beginning, but this story isn't meant to be an action fic. I think of it more as a slight character study on a 'What If' storyline. It's basically an insight into Dean's demon lifestyle, and yes, most chapters will be fillers. Updates may become slower so please, bear with me.**

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><p>It hadn't gone that badly after all. Well, Dean wasn't sure if he would ever get all the blood out of his right ear or if broken ribs could heal after being twisted in a certain direction, but all in all, it could have been a lot worse.<p>

Dean ended up having to report the disaster to Alastair who had, by now, reluctantly taken a meatsuit. To Dean's surprise, the white eyed demon took the setback fairly well. But then Lilith's personal assistant, Igath, decided to join the party which was the reason why Dean was still painstakingly yanking out the staples firmly embedded in his arm. The ugly bitch's idea of amusement just so happened to be attacking people with a staple gun.

While it had been an extremely unpleasant situation, it was nowhere near as bad as getting exorcised. Since Crowley had the Colt under lock and key and Ruby's knife seemed to be the only one in existence, the only thing demons had to worry about were exorcisms.

Getting exorcised was both painful and unpleasant. Not to mention that getting sent back to the Pit usually meant that you screwed up big time and worse things were waiting for you down under.

But your first exorcism was a little like initiation. Apparently, you were also a nobody in the Pit until you got exorcised. In a way, it was sort of like Hell's twisted form of demonic hazing.

Dean ended up getting exorcised only a few days after he got out of the Pit by a stupid mistake on his part. He seemed to have a knack of getting himself into sticky situations. Dean ran into a hunter and an old friend, Mark, who had been off the grid for several years at that point. Mark had been laying low for a while and hadn't heard the news of Dean's death.

They ran into each other at a bar and Dean made the rather foolish decision of accepting a drink. In his defense, it had been a long day and beer was beer. But that was when everything went wrong.

_Flashback_

_Dean doubled over in pain, his insides searing with agony, steam issuing_ _from his mouth as his eyes turned pitch black. He was on the ground writhing as the poison spread through his body, trying to cough up the combination of Holy Water and beer he just foolishly drank._

_It was a rookie mistake. He should have seen this coming. "C'mon Dean!" he thought angrily to himself, "What the hell were you thinking? All the hunters of the world are now your enemies!"_

_Mark approached slowly, a malevolent expression on his face. Dean vaguely saw him raise his foot off the ground and felt a sharp flash of pain before he succumbed to unconsciousness._

_It was difficult to wake. Every fiber of his being pushed him toward the never ending blackness that was oblivion. It was like his body knew that consciousness would only bring him more pain, that awareness wouldn't do him any good._

_He groaned and blinked several times before managing to focus on the scene in front of him even though Dean was pretty sure he knew what this was all about. He looked around, taking in the boarded up windows, plastic containers of what was undoubtedly Holy Water, bags of rock salt, and an extremely pissed off Mark standing off to the side._

_Wincing slightly, he tried to move but realized quickly that he was bound tightly to a sturdy wooden chair. Looking down, Dean saw a devil's trap drawn in paint underneath him. Well this was one big pile of shit that he got himself into._

"_You know," Mark said, breaking the silence, "I really hate demons. But the damn things are always underestimating us. Good for us, but very, very bad for you. Just how stupid do you think we are?"_

_Before Dean could retort, Mark picked up one of the containers and flung its contents over Dean. He howled in pain as his skin steamed at the contact with the Holy Water. It was like being splashed with boiling acid, the water eating away at his skin. Panting heavily, he looked up to see that Mark had moved directly in front of him, now holding a bag of rock salt._

"_You see," Mark said, while dissolving the salt with the Holy Water, "I may have been on 'shore leave' for a while but that certainly don't mean I can't do my job anymore. Nice try, possessing one of my friends. Gotta give you points for creativity."_

_Dean groaned internally. This wasn't going to be easy to explain. He couldn't exactly explain to Mark that he made a crossroads deal, died, went to Hell, and became a demon all in the span of a few years. There was no way Mark would believe that, even if he was out of commission for a while. _

_Mark proceeded to dump the salty Holy Water over the demon's head. The burning sensation intensified, if that was even possible. Some had gotten in his mouth and nose, and he choked and coughed, the water searing his throat. He gagged, trying to get as much of the burning liquid out of his sinuses as he could. _

_Still snorting out Holy Water, Dean looked down at the devil's trap and cussed silently. Sometimes, inexperienced hunters forgot that devil's traps could be washed away easily with Holy Water; unfortunately, it looked like Mark had used waterproof paint._

_Mark noticed Dean's trail of thought though. "Nice try. But you aren't getting out of there. Believe me. You're screwed, buddy," the hunter said, grinning._

"_Have fun in Hell," Mark said before reciting the Latin exorcism. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. Omnis Satanica potestas."_

_Dean writhed in agony. His body felt like it was tearing into two, like a gigantic hand was slowly peeling him apart, ready to fling him back to Hell as soon as he was in two pieces._

_Dean's body jerked involuntarily as the chair legs scraped against the floor. "Omnis incursio infernalis adversii." Mark continued, as Dean slammed his shoulders into the back of the chair. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that a tiny layer of paint had been scratched off the devil's trap, right where the chair leg had scraped the floor._

_Dean rocked the chair back and forth, trying the break the devil's trap. All he needed was one little line in the symbol's paint and he was free. Mark ignored Dean's struggles and read even louder, "Omnis congregation et secta diabolica," He was almost there, just a little more... "Ergo, draco maledicte ecclesiam tuam."_

"_Got it!" Dean rejoiced internally. With the devil's trap broken, he tore the ropes in half, the severed bindings falling on the floor. Dean couldn't help but feel a rush of satisfaction at the astonished look on Mark's face before Dean carelessly snapped the hunter's neck, his body falling, now lifeless, to the floor. _

_Dean straightened getting ready to leave as he suddenly noticed a man standing in the doorway, his expression murderous. "Shit," Dean hissed under his breath. It was Ted, Mark's best friend. He'd been so stupid to think that Mark had been alone. _

_The two stared at each other for one long second as fury darkened Ted's face. Before Dean could make a break for it, the hunter had shouted out the rest of the exorcism. "Secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!"_

_Dean howled and dropped to his knees as those last few words broke the tenuous hold he on his body. He felt himself ripping into two, as a crushing force extracted his essence from his body. _

_The hunter watched as the column of thick black smoke shot upward from the body, coiling angrily like a storm cloud before dissipating into thin air._

_The force seemed to hurl Dean backwards, enveloping him in a constricting hold until he felt the all too familiar scorching heat that he had grown so accustomed to in the past year._

_End Flashback_

Fortunately, it didn't take too long for him to retrieve his body. It hadn't started to decompose yet and for that he was thankful. He did have to do a little bit of digging in order to recover his meatsuit. And that was why he now had a binding link carved on his upper arm as a result of his first and hopefully last exorcism.

Because of the recent mission's failure, Dean had good amount of time to kill as it was standard with failed assignments. Dean wandered around aimlessly, lost in thought.

What were the angel's plans? It almost seemed as though Heaven had ulterior motives. While they were at a disadvantage, an angel could easily kill most demons with a single touch. It didn't seem likely that Heaven would let forty three of the Seals break that easily. And what was up with Castiel's warning for Sam? He obviously wanted the message to come from Dean as Castiel or another angel could have easily delivered the message themselves. So what was Heaven hiding?

Dean suddenly realized that he was standing outside someone's house. It was easy to lose track of where you were going while lost in thought. It had happened to Dean several times before. Once he had ended up in Quebec, and another time he found himself in the middle of Caracas.

It took Dean a second to gather that the house he was standing next to was extremely familiar. He peered through a nearby window. It looked almost exactly the same except for the multitude of beer bottles littering every surface.

"Well Bobby always drank he was stressed," Dean muttered to himself. He couldn't stick around. Bobby would be a whole lot angrier than Sam was if Dean decided to pay the old man a visit.

Taking one last look at the house, Dean turned to leave but before he could do so, he heard the sound of a shotgun being cocked and a voice ring out, "I don't know who the hell you are or who yer tryin' to fool, but you'd better get off my porch before I blast ya full of buckshot!"

**I don't want to beg for reviews, but I do admit that they make me want to update quicker. Hint, hint.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Supernatural.**

**Please excuse my grammatical and spelling errors. **

**AN: I feel unbelievably guilty for not updating for such a long time. Please don't kill me. Needless to say, but my "update whenever I get the chance" plan didn't exactly pan out.**

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><p>"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell, Bobby?" Dean yelled hastily, as the older man pulled out a rather deadly looking iron knife. The blade was jagged, sixteen inches long, and caked in rust. And Dean had no intention whatsoever to get skewered by that thing.<p>

Bobby had attempted to bash Dean's head in with the barrel of his gun but quickly abandoned his efforts when the only visible result of his actions was the now slightly dented gun barrel. And this was after Bobby had shot Dean multiple times to no avail.

To say that Bobby Singer wasn't happy would be an understatement. He was downright pissed. He had been trying to have a normal Tuesday evening, well as normal as it could get for him, and he even thinking about tinkering around with a few of the old trucks out back when what looked like one of Dean Winchester's clones appeared on his front porch.

Whatever that thing was, it was a dead ringer of the elder Winchester. He really hated those damn shapeshifters. Always sneaking around, stealing other folks' faces, and overall causing a whole shitload of trouble. True, being downright irritating was sorta in the job description of monster, but that didn't mean they couldn't take just one teensy little break every once in a while.

Dean backed away, his eyes still on the knife. Their little scuffle had taken them inside the rather windswept living room. He'd already had a several very narrow misses with the numerous devil's traps drawn into the floors, walls, and ceiling of the house. Only his prior knowledge of the placement of the symbols prevented him from getting stuck. He'd forgotten how paranoid the old hunter was but the thought was swiftly pushed to the back of his mind as the old man got angrier and angrier by the minute. This was not going to end well.

"What the hell are you?" Bobby roared, advancing on Dean who was slowly backing away, mindful of the devil's trap etched in to the wood floor a few feet to his left.

"Bobby, it's me," Dean said slowly, all the while chiding himself for being so stupid. Bobby wasn't going to listen to him. The second that the grizzled hunter found out what Dean was, he'd waste no time in ganking him or kicking his ass into next week. Dean hadn't had to worry about Sam's reaction as his little brother was too shocked to retaliate. But Bobby was different and would not hesitate to rip him a new one. He was screwed either way as most of the possible outcomes included at least one dead body and ending up on the wrong side of a thorough ass-kicking.

"Like hell ya are!" snarled Bobby, quivering with rage. It wouldn't be long before he fully blew up. "You're not Dean," he snarled, eyes narrowing in rage, "Go to hell!"

Dean gave a humorless snort, his eyes flashing pitch black and back to green again, as he said, "You know, I would, but you usually need to wait for an invitation. Bossman doesn't like when too many people pop down under unexpectedly." He stood there waiting for the inevitable explosion. With luck he might actually be able to shag ass before things got too out of hand.

If the situation hadn't been so tense and if times were different, Dean might have laughed at the almost comical expression on the older hunter's face. The look didn't last very long as Bobby recovered from his shock fairly quickly. Pointing the knife at Dean once again, the grizzled hunter opened his mouth and said something the demon had not been expecting.

"How could you let them do this do ya, boy?" the hunter said softly. His face was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed hints of what might have actually been sadness.

Dean blinked in surprise, stepped backwards and almost got himself caught in yet _another_ devil's trap. Struggling to compose himself, Dean forced a smirk on his face as he said, "You must be getting soft in your old age. I was expecting a little more homicidal rage and little less gaping like a fish out of water. Take a picture, it lasts longer."

Bobby visibly bristled at this and stepped closer to the demon, retrieving a shotgun from the table that was most certainly loaded with rock salt. "I stand by my earlier statement," Bobby said, his voice steady, "You're not Dean. Dean would've never let this happen. He would've been stronger than this. He would've fought this. He would've found some way to hang on. So no, you're not Dean. Not anymore. Now you're just another ugly to put down."

Dean grinned at this. Two could play at this game. "And you're just another old hunter to slaughter. You hunters don't know how pathetic you really are. I mean you all think you can save the world, like what you're doing really is of any importance. Hell, I was like that too. But you can't fight a war that's already been lost. There's too much of this so called "evil" in the world. You can't fight back and the best you can do is try not to drown in it. It's useless, but you're just to blind to see it," he said tauntingly.

"I see what's going on here," Bobby spat, trying to appear more confident than he looked though he actually_ had_ noticed something. But, this wasn't exactly a situation you could feel self-assured in.

"Oh, do you," Dean snorted derisively. "Well then, enlighten me, old man," he said with a mocking smile.

"You're stalling," Bobby said with as much conviction as he could muster. "If you really wanted me kill me, I would've been dead before I even opened the door. But I'm still standing here breathing. You didn't come here just for a chat, but you're not quite up to killing me or whatever it is that you came here to do."

"I got my reasons for coming here," Dean lied smoothly, all the while mentally cursing himself. If he had only paid the slightest attention to where he'd been going then he would not be in this situation.

"Fine," Bobby said sharply and slammed the knife point down onto the table where its tip of the blade embedded itself in the wood and shook quietly as if noticing the almost tangible tension if the room. Dean frowned at Bobby, wondering what the hell had gotten into the old hunter.

"What's gotten your panties all in in a twist? Cause I have to say, you've lost me," Dean said, preparing himself for an attack.

Bobbly glared at Dean before responding. "We ain't getting anywhere with all this jibber jabber, and you sure ain't up to killing me, and I'm not quite up to ganking your sorry ass either. We're at stalemate and at this rate we'll still be at it till trumpet day comes."

"Let me get this straight," Dean said, a grin rising to his face. "You're going to let me go, pretend this never happened?"

"As I said, we ain't getting anywhere with all this nonsense. So I'll let you go this one time. Anything else would've been a waste of a whole lot of my time and energy. But next time, I'm warning you, you'll be looking down the barrel of my shotgun. Now get out of my house!" Bobby finished the last few words in a roar, raising the said shotgun threateningly.

"Same goes for you, Bobby. Till next time," Dean sneered before walking toward the open door. Before leaving, he grinned in Bobby's direction and then stepped through the door, vanishing before he had fully passed through the doorway.

Bobby cursed loudly and stomped back through his house to his living room, planning to mull things over with a little rotgut. Before he even sat down though, the phone rang loudly from the next room. Bobby sighed and trudged through the room, snagging a bottle from the counter before picking the phone up and answering. "Hello?"

"_Bobby, it's Sam," _was the frantic reply the grizzled hunter got in turn. _"Dean's back."_

"I know," Bobby cut in, "As a demon. He just dropped in on me."

There was a short pause before Sam responded, _"I have a feeling that none of this will turn out well."_

"Ya think, boy," Bobby said wearily into the phone before settling back on the couch. "Hold on for a second, Sam, "he said into the phone. "I'm definitely gonna need a drink first."

Laughing, Dean strolled down the sidewalk of some random town in Mississippi, marveling at how well the situation had turned out. He should've known that Bobby didn't have the balls to even pull the trigger. The hunter really had gone soft in his old age. While Dean did harbor a few reservations about killing Bobby, he, unlike the grizzled hunter, could've actually done it if the situation had come to it.

The only problem Dean _was_ worried about was how messy the job could've and would've gotten. Bobby, no matter how old he was, was still a hunter and more than capable of doing some fairly extensive damage. The killing would've attracted attention which happened to be the very thing they were all trying to avoid.

But that didn't mean they couldn't have a little fun every once in a while. Hell, random chaos was usually encouraged. As long as it was low profile. To the humans at the very least.

A plan was already forming itself in Dean's mind. It wouldn't require too much effort and he hadn't been given any new orders yet. Might as well do something with the spare time while it lasted as he wouldn't be getting another break for a very long time. It was time to see how long his sudden burst of good luck was going to last.

**I know some of your were probably expecting a big fight between Dean and Bobby, but my opinion is that especially at this point of the story, none of them would be up to it. On the other hand, I'm just glad I was able to post this. You know I actually planned to post Chapter 7 in January if you can believe it.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Supernatural and I never did.**

**I apologize if my any of my grammar and spelling mistakes offends anyone.**

**AN: I can't promise I'll update consistently, but I'm determined that one way or another, I will finish this story. Whether you think it's good is a completely different matter.**

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><p>The alley was dark and smelled strongly of unidentifiable odors that were probably best left unknown. It was one of those places usually reserved for the shadiest of characters that swarmed areas similar to these like moths to a flame, but today, it was unusually empty. Grime and graffiti covered almost every visible surface and piles of foul smelling garbage littered the floor. Even in broad daylight, the alley was still a gloomy place.<p>

The young woman who had just appeared in the midst of all this gloom wrinkled her nose in disgust at her less than hospitable surroundings. If someone hadn't called her here, she wouldn't have even set a foot in this dump. But she couldn't understand why Sam would be summoning her after they had spoken less than two hours ago. At least she thought it was Sam. She was pretty sure it was Sam.

Plenty of people tried to summon Ruby, thinking that they could trick the demon into showing up. She ignored most of the rituals, knowing that the perpetrator was probably going to kill her if she did show. So she had Sam use an extremely obscure summoning ritual whenever he needed to call her, sort of like a personalized ringtone for certain callers. But she didn't always show up for him either.

The reasoning that it must have been a dire emergency for Sam to call after such a short time was what brought Ruby to this filthy dumpster of an alley. "_This better be good_," Ruby thought irritably, while attempting to extract her left shoe from a pile of stinking gunk she seemed to have stepped in upon appearing in the alley.

Sighing, she made to scrape the muck off her shoe onto the wall and then looked up, remembering that the entire alley was practically coated in the unknown substance. It would probably be easier just to keep going for now and then burn the shoes later. She trudged forward while skirting around the puddles of sludge, making a face each time she heard the squelch of her foot impacting the sticky ground. What in the world was Sam doing in a dump like this?

"Sam?" Ruby called uncertainly, before realizing that if Sam _was_ in trouble he might not be able to answer her. None of this made any sense, but she quickened her stride, still doing her best to avoid the pools of gunk.

A sudden noise made her freeze and then she whipped around, trying to find the perpetrator. She saw nothing though, but her paranoia was beginning to rise. Ruby turned back around and groaned, realizing that she had stepped in particularly large and deep puddle of goo. Grimacing, she tried to shake of her feelings of disgust and raised her foot. For a second, it seemed as though the slime wasn't going to let her shoe go but she managed to remove her foot with a loud squelching sound and then did the same with the other foot.

She was able to get herself a few steps further, before her shoes stuck completely. "Shit," she muttered under her breath. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to get her feet to move any farther. So she changed tactics and began scraping the gunk off the floor with her shoe. Hopefully she could clear a path and that might make walking a little easier. She scraped away at the muck until she finally reached the graffiti covered concrete underneath. She looked down at the tiny circle of concrete she was standing in, looked up to see even _more_ sludge in front of her, and looked down again at the graffiti covered concrete, shock coursing through her system.

_That wasn't graffiti. _Using her foot, she pushed aside more layers of gunk, revealing more spray-painted lines on the concrete. Ruby scratched off a little more grime, groaning when her suspicions were confirmed. "Damn it," she hissed. The lines were crossed forming a pentagram which was enclosed by a circle, with various symbols painted in the spaces. She was standing in a devil's trap.

"Well that was a very stupid move there, bitch," a familiar voice behind her said.

Ruby turned around and saw Dean Winchester, looking like he always did with a cocky smirk forming on his face, leaning against the wall of the alley, the filth having vanished mysteriously.

"I wasn't expecting it to be this easy. I mean, I wasn't sure if you were even going to turn up. And then I had to draw about eight devil's traps around here just in case, but you strolled right into the very first one," Dean chortled.

"Dean," Ruby said as calmly as she could manage though her heart was racing at what might happen next, "what the hell do you want?"

"Just, I don't know, maybe your intestines on a barbeque fork. That should do the trick nicely," Dean said as he straightened and walked closer to Ruby.

"I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you, Dean. Just cause your Alastair's favorite doesn't mean I can't kill you. I'm older than you and I can gut you like a fish," Ruby snarled angrily.

"Well," Dean began, grinning in way that he knew would get on Ruby's nerves, "thankfully, you're _not_ me. Which all in all is a huge relief since who'd want to live as a lying skank? I also know you don't have your special little knife with you right now. My guess is that you left it with Sam since you need your precious cargo to be able to defend himself when his Wonder Girl powers fizzle out unexpectedly. One thing that you were right about was Sam. That kid's a fucking time bomb. Give him enough juice and he could probably ice an entire army of demons. Problem is, is that if that "juice" is hard to obtain or the matter of obtaining it just so happens to go against certain morals of his, then that could be a problem."

Ruby's eyes widened. She didn't expect anyone else, much less Dean, to know about the demon blood. How did he find out?

"The thing is," Dean continued, "Sam was given Hell's ultimate weapon. But instead of helping_ us _out, he just turned around and started blasting us with it. Bit of an inconvenience, but we intend to fix that."

"And how the hell do you plan to do that?" Ruby asked scathingly. Sam was stubborn as hell. His blood addiction was growing by the day, but he was still adamant about using his powers for "good." And Ruby was pretending to be supportive, telling Sam that he should develop his powers to fight evil instead. And her plan was going along nicely until Dean fucking Winchester decided to join the party.

"All that blood is poisoning him, Ruby. It won't be long before he cracks completely. And when that happens, we'll be there with a very generous offer for him," Dean replied carelessly.

Ruby frowned since Hell's plan was uncannily similar to her own. Supply Sam with demon blood until he couldn't think straight, convince him that he's doing the right thing, and wait for him to go dark side. In fact, if you read between the lines, it was the exact same plan as the desired outcome was the same. Pop Lucifer out of the box by breaking all the Seals. But Lilith just so happened to be the Final Seal and only two demons knew that. Lilith herself and Ruby. She supposed that most of the big dogs in Hell would be let in on the plan as Lilith's execution date grew closer and closer.

The most frustrating thing was that even though she was technically on Hell's side, she was still considered a fugitive. All the other demons considered her a traitor thinking that she was helping Sam hone his powers so he could kill Lilith and stop the Apocalypse. But they were only partially right as she was only helping Sam hone his powers so that he could kill Lilith and _start_ the Apocalypse. But now Dean Winchester had caught her with a devil's trap and her future wasn't looking too pretty.

"Well, it seems like you have everything figured out so what do you want with me then?" Ruby asked in a disdainful voice. "What are you going to do now, turn me in to the big guys?"

"Wrong, try again," Dean said, grinning. "But you're going to wish I had. Because you don't get to be Alastair's favorite just by sitting there and looking pretty. You have to work for it. And I've got something real special planned just for you."

Dean slowly pulled out a syringe from his back pocket which was filled with a clear colorless liquid. Holy water. Without warning, he plunged the needle in to Ruby's neck and watched as she began to writhe and scream.

The last thing Ruby saw was Dean Winchester leering at her, his face stretched into an almost inhuman grin, before it all went dark.

**Thanks for reading. I'm not going to beg for reviews, but I have to admit, they are nice.**


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